


Rain

by ABSedarian



Series: Thirty Worlds (AU Challenge) [11]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU - Slice of Life, AU Challenge, Challenge on Infinite Earths, F/F, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABSedarian/pseuds/ABSedarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Challenge / Challenge on Infinite Earths</p><p>Day 11: Slice-of-Life</p><p>A torrential downpour results in a chance meeting. Meet-cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Emma Swan ran down the street, trying not to lose sight of her mark in the sudden almost-apocalyptic weather. “Really,” she panted under her breath as her long legs ate up the pavement while trying to shield her eyes from the rain. “You just had to be a runner, jerk.” 

Her mark vanished around a corner and then apparently into thin air because he was completely gone by the time Emma rounded the corner after him. She found herself in an alley off the busy Manhattan street, and her mark was just … gone. Emma walked into the alley — looking around all the time, not in the mood for an ambush — until she got to the dead end. “Where the hell did you go?” 

She checked the huge dumpsters but they were filled with nothing but very soggy garbage, then looked up and checked the two fire escapes she could make out against the dark brick walls among the sheets of rain. 

Nothing. 

Dejectedly — and soaked through to the bone — Emma made her way back to the busy street to head back to where she came from. The crowds had thinned out in the last few minutes with most people intelligent enough to get out of the torrential rains. Emma pushed her wet hair out of her face and trudged on, avoiding puddles as much as possible. 

At the next corner she stopped at the curb and waited for traffic to lighten up enough for her to cross over and take a short-cut through the park back to her office. The temperatures had dropped and she was beginning to feel the chill through her red leather jacket which just wasn’t made for this kind of weather. As she looked to the right, a black town car neared rapidly from the left just as a cab veered out from its lane across the street. The town car swerved towards Emma and straight through a huge puddle, hitting Emma with a wall of water, drenching her even more than she already was. 

Emma swore loudly, and although the sound didn’t travel in the rain and wind, the town car screeched to a stop about 30 feet away from where she was raging against the driver. The back door opened, beckoning Emma to go and give the driver or passenger a piece of her mind. She stalked over, steam building up inside her, waiting to be let out. 

She leaned forward to look into the back of the car to rip the owner to shreds when her eyes caught sight of the passenger and her brain emptied in a fizz. There, sitting among piles of important-looking sheets of paper, was the most breathtakingly beautiful women Emma Swan had ever seen, giving her an apologetic smile and a sincere look from brown eyes. 

“Jesus,” Emma breathed, although she didn’t know if it was for the driving or the woman being driven around. 

“I am so sorry,” the gorgeous woman spoke, and Emma knew she was absolutely done for. That voice was deadly enough to make her knees buckle. “My driver had to avoid another car, and I apologize if you were inconvenienced by that.” 

“Inconvenienced?” Emma asked, eyebrow raised in challenge. “Drenched, you mean?” 

The woman in the car smirked a little. “So I see.” She picked up some of the papers and stuffed them in a business case. “Can I make up for getting you wet by giving you a ride to your destination?” When Emma hesitated a fraction of a second too long, she added, “Please? It’s not like you can get the seats any wetter than the weather and our little chat have already managed.” 

Emma looked down to where the woman pointed and saw the small puddles forming on the expensive leather. With a sigh, she nodded and slid into the car. “Thank you,” she murmured, trying not to get anything but the spot she was sitting in wet. She gave the driver her address, then turned back to the beautiful brunette when he raised the divider and eased back onto traffic. “My name’s Emma. Emma Swan.” 

“Regina Mills,” came the instant reply. “Pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes went to Emma’s thoroughly wet t-shirt and she found it hard to tear her eyes away. “I think it might definitely be more my pleasure than yours,” she murmured, only to add a louder, “Again, I apologize.” 

“Oh my God,” Emma blurted, ignoring the apology and the lingering look at her chest area. “Regina Mills? You look different when you’re not smiling down from a huge billboard.” 

Surprisingly enough, Regina looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, well … if you knew how many hours of styling and hair and make-up, not to mention post-editing goes into those pictures you wouldn’t be surprised. I hardly recognize myself …” 

Emma snorted, causing Regina to look at her. “What I meant to say was that you’re even _more_ gorgeous in person, Ms. Mills.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure you have the time to give me this ride?” 

“Call me Regina, please. And it’s perfectly fine.” Regina paused, her hand picking up an invisible piece of lint from her designer jeans. “To be honest, I’m escaping from a terrible lunch date and I have some time to spare before I have to be at work.” 

Calling the Met a _workplace_ was probably the height of understatement, but before Emma could call her on it, Regina continued. “I’m surprised you even know who I am,” she said. 

“Why?” Emma asked, slightly offended. “Because I don’t look like someone who could appreciate the fine arts? I might not have a season ticket to the Met but—” 

Regina rolled her eyes. “No, dear,” she interrupted quietly. “Because not many people _do_ out of context. I’m an opera singer, not some rock star or movie actor. We do tend to attract smaller crowds.” 

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Emma conceded. “And if you remember, I only recognized you _after_ you told me who you were, so it doesn’t quite count.” 

“Don’t worry, dear. I won’t hold that against you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you held _yourself_ against me,” Emma blurted under her breath, beating herself up over it the very next second. 

Her hope that Regina hadn’t heard her comment was shattered when she saw her face, spiked eyebrow and all. 

“You’re rather direct, aren’t you?” Regina asked, and to Emma’s surprise she didn’t sound entirely put off. 

“I often suffer from foot-in-mouth disease,” Emma admitted. “My brain has trouble catching up to my mouth in time to stop whatever’s coming out sometimes.” 

“That’s quite refreshing.” Regina gave Emma a small smile. “You remind me of my son.” 

“You have a son?” Emma couldn’t help but gasp. Then she cringed and pointed at her mouth as if to say, “See?” 

Regina chuckled. “You didn’t know?” 

“You said it yourself,” Emma defended herself. “You’re an opera singer, not a movie star whose private life is spread all over the gossip rags.” 

“Thank God for that,” Regina muttered. “That does make my life a little easier.” 

There was a lull in conversation as Emma pondered what to say or whether to say anything at all. She stared out the window at the city flying by, at the people fighting the rain. The buildings began to look very familiar and she realized that they were close to her apartment. If she wanted to see Regina again — and not from the cheapest seats at the Met — then she had to come up with something soon. 

_Make that now_ , she thought when the car rolled to a stop in front of her building. “This is me, I guess,” she muttered sadly. 

“You guess?” Amusement shone from Regina’s dark eyes. “Did the weather damage more than your clothes?” She stopped when she realized something. “I’m going to take care of the dry-cleaning bill, of course.” 

Emma shook her head. “I have a washing machine, that’ll do,” she declined. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“But …” 

“But?” Emma prayed that she hadn’t imagined the look of disappointment on Regina’s face. 

“But … but then at least take this.” Regina dug around in a small satchel by her side and took out an envelope, which she handed to Emma. “Please.” 

Emma opened the envelope and gasped in surprise when two front-row tickets to the premiere of the new Met production fell out. “I can’t … What?” 

“Please take them,” Regina implored her. “If you don’t want them—“ 

“No!” Emma barked quickly. “Of course I want them! But I bet these are worth more than my clothes …” 

“Not to me,” Regina replied simply. “To me, they’re about having someone to look at and focus on when I sing. Someone I’d … well …” 

Emma smiled at the adorably flustered look on Regina’s face. “Are you trying to tell me you would like to see me again?” 

Regina’s eyes widened as they met Emma’s but her mouth curled into a shy smile. “Sorry, I’m so very bad at this, and I _never_ do this … but yes.” 

Emma dug around in the inside pocket of her leather jacket and fished out a slightly crumpled and wet business card. “Here’s my number,” she said. “And this is my private cell.” She scribbled a number on the back and handed Regina the card, hoping to hell that the digits would remain legible until Regina used them, if she ever did. 

“Thank you,” Regina whispered. 

The divider went down and Regina’s driver turned his head. “Ms. Mills,” he began apologetically. “We have to go if you want to make it on time.” 

“Thank you, Marco.” Regina nodded and waited until the divider was up again. “I have to go,” she said softly. “Will you come?” 

Emma returned the smile she could see on Regina’s face. “Will you call me?” 

“Maybe.” The smile turned coy. 

On impulse, Emma leaned in and pressed her lips to Regina’s cheek in a brief kiss. “Thank you for the ride.” 

Regina’s fingers touched her cheek. “What was that?” 

Emma opened the door and stepped out into the rain. She wrapped her jacket closer around herself to ward off the chill against her wet clothes and leaned back inside the car. “That … was a thank you ... and a preview.” 

She was halfway up to her apartment when her cell phone alerted her to a new message. _If that was a preview, I’m looking forward to the main event. RM._

**The End**


End file.
